


Four AM Psycho (Power)

by orc



Category: Street Fighter
Genre: Angst, Cologne-based violence, Gen, I love this boy so much but I had to write this, I'm Sorry, SFV story mode spoilers I guess, Vomit Mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orc/pseuds/orc
Summary: Vegas: the city that never sleeps, where you can find everything your heart desires and some things it doesn't (like being haunted by your dead dad).





	Four AM Psycho (Power)

He knew better than to eat right before bed.

Ed tilted his head back and gargled, washing out the last taste of bile from the back of his throat. It must’ve been three or four am, he didn’t bother to check on his rush to the bathroom. The Vegas lights below were shining as bright as ever, giving him just enough light to catch his reflection in the mirror. 

God, he looked like shit. One blue eye stared back at him, pupil wide from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The other was hidden behind his bangs, and while he could simply sweep them aside he knew just what was waiting for him behind that veil of hair.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool glass. “Get it together Ed,” he murmured to himself. He stood straight up and slapped his cheeks, trying to clear his clouded mind. ‘Just a nightmare’ he tried to tell himself, repeating the mantra over and over in his head. A bad dream shouldn’t send him scrambling to the bathroom, shaking and heaving from how scared he was (he wasn’t scared! Or so he’d claim if anyone tried to say otherwise).

Ed flipped on the tap, letting it run for a few seconds before splashing his face with water. Maybe that was the shock his system needed. God, he hoped so. The sooner he could get back to sleep, the better. He turned off the tap, reaching in the dark for a towel to pat his face dry. But just as his fingers touched the soft terrycloth, he froze. His blood chilled and stomach dropped. Something, or rather, someone was behind him. In an instant he whipped around, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

There stood a man, clad in a red uniform that made Ed’s stomach drop. He stared at milk white eyes and an unnerving grin too wide for any normal human to make. A thick, hazy aura of sickly purple emanated from the man, filling the room and choking out whatever oxygen Ed had left in his lungs. He held his breath, desperate not to breathe in the psycho power.

“Get away from me!” Ed screamed, throwing the closest thing he could grab. The cologne bottle shattered against the wall, the ghost of his past fading from sight as the projectile flew through it. The last thing Ed could see, even in his panicked state, were those unearthly white teeth, that sickening smile that made his already-empty stomach turn over in disgust.

It was only then that Ed allowed himself to breath, gulping down oxygen like he had been moments from drowning. He’d take drowning over ghosts any day. Ed staggered backwards, grabbing the counter behind him to keep from falling flat on his ass. If his white-knuckled grip was any tighter, it’d probably break a piece of the marble off in his hand.

“Fucker…” he whispered to himself, voice hoarse. “Fucker thinks… thinks he’s going to take over my body? Wish that shithead would just fucking… give up.” He laughed, a hollow laugh that concealed a sob. For what felt like an eternity he simply leaned against the counter, trying to regain his composure for the second time that night. He wanted to chastise himself, he knew better than to let that ghost sneak up on him, but he was too goddamned tired to even mentally scold himself.

Eventually though he turned back around, needing to check something before he went back to bed and tried to get a few more hours of sleep. It was more than a small relief to see an azure eye staring back at him. Sure, the white of his eye was still bloodshot, but it was his eye. _His_. Not anyone else’s eye, just his.

His heart sunk at that thought. His eye. Ed swallowed his pride, if a man who just wasted expensive cologne fighting off a ghost at four in the morning had pride. He brushed back his bangs, heart pounding in his throat at what he knew was waiting for him behind that blond hair.

He was met with a single milky white eye.

“That’s the closest Bison’s ever going to get.”


End file.
